


How Harry Got His Second Black Eye (And Accidentally Closed The Case)

by moriann



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Stakeout, Women Being Awesome, Yuletide, don't get your life lessons from Jerry Springer, some people need adult supervision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/pseuds/moriann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An object lesson in why Perry is right when he says Harry shouldn't work without adult supervision, or, plans are what gets you into things, but you got to work your way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Harry Got His Second Black Eye (And Accidentally Closed The Case)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadXStitcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadXStitcher/gifts).



> Betaed by the awesome CrunchySalad, who fearlessly battled all the britishisms trying to sneak in.

_How on Earth do I land myself in these situations?_

Sounds familiar? Because it does to me, but this time, falling off a bar stool with a brand new black eye, I knew exactly how I had come to that point. Which, I suppose I should share with you up front, so you can get the "I could've told you it would've ended up like this" out of the way, so here it goes.

Basing a plan on something you saw on Jerry Springer? Not a good idea. This is your cautionary tale.

\---

It was right after breakup number four, so it had been rather awkward to go to Harmony for help, but beggars can't be choosers and I’d definitely fit the bill at the time. I had less than three days to prove to Perry I could be trusted to do actual investigating and not get stuck in the land of fetch and carry forever.

You know how Perry never lets me work any cases on my own? He says I’m a living, breathing liability, too much of a loose cannon to be trusted with actual responsibilities beyond answering phone calls and making coffee. So when a case took him out of town for a few days, he handed the other case we had over to me. It was a classic philandering husband story, which, according to Perry, was as close to open-and-shut as you get in the business. Or, as he put it:

“A moderately trained monkey could sit in a car on a stakeout and get a money shot, Harry.”

Funny thing. The look he was giving me clearly said he was still considering my position on the skill scale in relation to the hypothetical monkey’s... and that he wasn’t sure I was coming up on top.

“Just get the damn job done, Harry. No theatrics. Get the photo, get the check. And for God's sake, do not take on any new cases by yourself.”

Now, you might be wondering, why the hell did I need to take Harmony with me on the stakeout? Well, that’s because Perry’s idea was boring, so I decided to be proactive. Not to mention the added benefit of being able to rub Perry’s nose in the fact that I didn’t need the whole three days to close the case.

The plan, I thought, was brilliant in its simplicity: Instead of sitting around, waiting for the client’s husband to make a move on some leggy blonde, I’d get the ball rolling myself. The only problem was, I needed a woman to play the bait.

And that’s how, one very uncomfortable and, in hindsight, extremely ill-advised phone call later, I was in a car with my ex-girlfriend, driving to the bar the mark frequented to put my plan into action. And just let me tell you at this point—working with your ex when the black eye she gave you instead of the Dear John letter was already edging into yellow, but still clearly visible on your face? Definitely not recommendable. Although, truth be told, there was something to be said for the icy silence in which we’d spent the whole ride there - at least I’d managed to avoid putting my foot in the mouth during the fifteen minutes it took us to get there.

\---

Which, shit, hold up a minute, this reminds me - it was totally post-breakup number three. The fourth one was when I broke things up by accident - long story, don't ask, it's not like at this point you should even be surprised, anyway...

Where was I? Yeah, breakup number three, car ride to bar, back to the story.

\---

Actually, forget that, let’s skip right to the part when stuff starts happening—don’t you just hate it when you have to sit through thirty minutes of set-up and crappy exposition to get to the action? So here we go, picking up right when it starts to get interesting.

\---

Harmony had been in the bar for a good thirty minutes and seemed to be having an awesome time there. All the while I’d been stuck outside in the car, watching through the camera’s telephoto lens.

I was passing the time with some very entertaining fantasies about what we could be doing later tonight if we'd still been together (and let me tell you, that was an incredibly inspiring dress Harmony was wearing) when I noticed one of the guys who'd been sitting at a table in the back go up to Harmony. I saw her turn him down, but it looked like he was the type who didn't know how to take no for an answer. I didn't like where it was going, so I got out of the car to rush to the rescue.

I didn't get to do any rescuing, though, because in the ten seconds it took me to get inside Harmony managed to take a taser out of her purse and put it to good use.

–-

I’m going to fade to black here to spare you some second-hand humiliation, because guess what? Harmony didn’t think she needed saving and was quite vocal in expressing her dislike of my trying to play the part of a knight in shining armor. She stalked out of there and left me standing in the middle of the room like an idiot.

–-

So there I was, alone in a bar. I've fucked up the job, I've pissed off my ex-girlfriend, probably burying any chance of reconciliation I've had - although wait, I've already spoiled that bit for you at the very beginning, didn't I? After all, we have to get back together to get to the extra break-up. I ordered a beer, because clearly the evening couldn't go much worse if I added alcohol into the mix. I decided to spend my evening staring morosely down my glass.

I looked up from my drink at the speaker and there he was—the client's husband. Shame he didn't come by when Harmony was still here.

"No." I gestured toward the empty stool next to me, "feel free to have a seat."

He sat down and waved at the bartender to get his attention. "I'll have what he's having," he said, gesturing at me. "And a refill for him."

I looked at him incredulously. "Trust me, you do not want to do that. I'm quite sure I must've had worse beers in my life, but right at this moment none come to mind."

And then he laughed. I might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but there was an idea starting somewhere at the back of my brain. I added up what was happening here: he was flirting with me. Damn. Harry Lockhart, stumbling upon solutions to cases completely by accident. Should have that on my business card, if I ever get one.

On the plus side, I had him almost where I needed him, clearly jonesing for a hook-up. On the other hand, without getting this recorded in some way it couldn’t be used as evidence, so it was all pointless. Also, even if I had been taping this, I realized it wouldn't be quite enough and I'd have to flirt back to actually get anything worthwhile. Fuck. How do I keep getting myself into these situations?

I frantically racked my brain for a way to get the job done. I remembered I still had my cellphone in my pocket, so I tried to surreptitiously reach for it to call Harmony—who knew, Harold the Great's skill at sleight-of-hand finally came in handy. I blindly punched in her number, hoping she'd get what I'm doing and start recording. (No matter what you might think about our relationship, we at least had the ability to read each other's crazy moves from time to time. It's the times when we communicated too much that were the problem.) I muted the voice, crossed my fingers and prayed for the best.

Apparently he really liked talking about himself. So really, the flirting wasn't so much different, I only had to nod along and make agreeable noises in the right places. It was downright easy. I was so busy patting myself on the back for the job well done, his hand on my leg took me completely by surprise. I looked down on it, then looked back at him, trying to figure out how not to let it go any further without spooking him.

It seemed I'd been doing my job all too well, and now I had to disentangle myself before he took my nodding along as permission to try for the second base. Just when I decided to go with the classic 'oh no, I just got the most urgent call, I need to leave right now' move, someone pushed the bar's doors open so hard they hit the wall with a loud crack. I swiveled the stool around to see who made that entrance just in time to see Harmony storming toward me.

"So this is the guys' night out you were going to?!" She was pointing at the hand on my thigh which in the meantime managed to migrate way north of my knee and almost into second base territory. He quickly removed it and briefly looked like he was going to attempt placating Harmony. I was almost buying her righteous indignation—and I knew it was a set-up. At least, I hoped this was her plan for getting me out of this.

I opened my mouth—probably to put my foot in my mouth again—but before I could get a single word out, I was met with a fist in the face. Say what you want about Harmony, but the woman packs one hell of a punch.

Then the guy’s self-preservation instinct finally kicked in. He threw a twenty on the bar and swiftly fled. By now the other patrons were all staring at us, visibly trying to puzzle out what was going on, so we didn’t waste any time getting the hell out of there and back to the car.

"Did you really have to hit me this hard?"

"I was going for realism, Harry. You're welcome, by the way."

"I think I can feel one of my teeth moving."

"Don't be such a baby."

"Maybe you could kiss it better," I offered hopefully.

"Don't push your luck."


End file.
